The Diary of Esme Anne Platt
by EsmeAnnePlattEvensonCullen
Summary: The diary if Esme reveals all of her thoughts about he human life as it happens starting when she meets Carlisle for the first time. R
1. Chapter 1

March 25, 1911

Diary,

I'm finally sixteen, but of corse I had to do something reckless. The birds chirped and he stood over me. He was a doctor. Dr. Carlisle Cullen was his name. He had blond hair and golden eyes. He was very handsome. It's too bad he's almost thirty- five.

I'm in the hospital now. Dr. Cullen is inspecting my leg. He says it should heal quickly. I just wanted to know how I got so luck as for him to find me. I was in the middle of the woods.

I know he knows I'm writing about him, but he doesn't care. He smiled and asked if he could read this entry. I said yes. He only smiled and said it was pure luck that he found me.

We're talking. He's asking me about my studies at school. I wasn't going to lie to him. I told him they weren't the best. He's very easy to talk to, much easier than either of my parents.

They don't understand me. They think I'm strange. Dr. Cullen doesn't. He says I'm a joy to be around, but, honestly, he probably says that to all of his patients. I'm just another clumsy girl who went against her parents orders and broke her leg.

I deserve it, though. I should have listened to Mother and Father. A lady isn't supposed to climb trees and fall out of them. They are supposed to stare at them in awe at their beauty and marvel at the trees that grew flowers and pick them.

Mother and Father have just arrived. I'm surprised they aren't yelling at me or spanking me. Their kindness might just be alive while Dr. Cullen is in the room. I'm not surprised, though. I was treated like a princess in company and a slave in privacy.

My child will never be treated as I am now. I will never spank my children. A scold will be enough for them to straiten up, but that will not happen because my children will be well behaved because I'll treat them kindly.

I wouldn't mind having children with Dr. Cullen. He seems like he would make a very loving and loyal husband, but I am a child. What chances would I have with a man who was so godly?

He wouldn't want anything to do with me in this way. He most likely see time with me as babysitting. I don't blame him. I do get rather whiney when I am in pain.

Dr. Cullen just left the room to get a wheelchair for me. My parents are yelling, too. They will physically punish me when we are home. I'm resenting my courage with them. My smart comments seem to get me into trouble a lot with them.

They call it talking back when I try to answer their questions. I call it trying to explain myself. That got me a slap in the face, but it wasn't hard enough to leave a mark. My parents aren't insane enough to leave a mark on me just yet. They were holding back the anger until we were home, but that's worse.

I'm surprised Father hasn't ripped this notepad from my hands. I'm writing while they are yelling. I'm telling them it's for a school assignment. They're believing me.

Love,

Esme Anne Platt


	2. Chapter 2

March 26, 1911

Diary,

We're home now. A few bruises taint my skin. They say it's for my own good, but what good is it doing? There's one on my right arm, left leg, and stomach, but they could be worse. There could be one on my face.

When I was a small child they were on my face. I was told to tell others how I 'fell down the steps' or 'tripped on a tree root as I was picking flowers for my darling mother whom I loved so, very much' and everyone beloved those idiotic stories.

I didn't see how they were believed. Those were my only two lies and I always had to use them twice a week each.

I learned at a young age that people always see what they want to. They looked at me and saw a perfect, little angel, but my parents said that was a lie. They ruined the thought or,should I saw fantasy, of finding my Prince Charming?

I giggle my recent thought. Dr. Cullen was very prince like. He had angelic hair, perfect skin, and a smooth voice. He made my heart flutter.

I shouldn't be thinking about him. I'm a child! He would never fall for me like I am for him. A girl could dream, couldn't she? Maybe I could dream, but not in this house, never in this house which I'm held prisoner in for another three weeks.

I hold my coat to me, now. It's cold in my bedroom. The sun has fallen in the sky and the moon is up. I'm staring out the window. It's a full moon and I can see everything. I can even see the figure walking towards my house.

It's a man. He's disappeared from my sight. There's banging on the wall under my window. My hearts racing. I'm so, very nervous! I pushed myself further from the window. I'm sitting in my wheelchair. I won't be able to fight back.

He was in my room. His blonde hairs pushed out of his gold eyes. How did he get up here? I'm in shock. He's walking closer. He gets down on his knees in front of me. He sees the bruises. He touches them gently.

"Esme," he says.

I'm frozen as he stands and lifts my chin. What is he doing? He's leaning towards me. I can feel his cool breath down my face while mine is hitched in my throat.

"Can I kiss you?"

I don't answer. I look at him as I'm paralyzed. I shake my head yes and meet him to my lips. They were soft. They were perfect and gentle just like his touch.

He does love me, at least I think he does. He's holding me now. We are laying in my twin-sized bed. It's not big enough for us to lay side-by-side. I'm half on top of him.

If my parents knew about this they would kill me, literally. I would be six feet under in less than a week. My body would be unrecognizable.

Not ever Carlisle, being what ever he is, would be able to identify my possible mangled body.

It's almost dawn and he's still here. I'd fallen asleep in his arms and he was still here. He did love me. I was sure of it. I lean up for a good morning kiss and he grants it.

"I'm moving."

I pull away from his chest. I'm shocked. He can't leave me. I love him. He can't leave me with my God-awful parents. I ask him to take me with him.

"I wish I could."

I just died a little. Tears are in my eyes. They are falling onto this page. He wipes them off my cheeks.

"Don't cry."

He doesn't understand that I can't help it. These tears that are falling and smearing the words will forever remind me of my first heartbreak. It will remind me how close I was to having a perfect life, how close I was to being a princess and having someone that loved me who wouldn't hurt me.

Forever,

Esme Anne fPlatt


	3. Chapter 3

May 27, 1911

Diary,

This is the last time I'll get to see him. He's taking off the cast on my leg and then he'll be gone. He's been with me every night since that first. All we ever did was kiss quickly and then I'd sleep.

Mother, Father, and I are at the hospital now. They are in the waiting room while I'm by myself in a separate room. It's white and boring. The only thing keeping me from trying to escape is my leg.

He just walked in. He was holding me in a second, kissing my forehead, my cheek, nose, and lips. His skin was cold, but comforting. I knew it had to be. If it wasn't I probably wouldn't miss him as much as I do.

He took off my cast and kissed my lips. He was so sweet. I didn't know who I was going to find to replace him. The fact is, no one can.

I'm home now and he's gone. He's

out of my life. I miss him. I'm staring out the window. I see all of my friends with their fiancée. We're of marring age.

I wish he could've stayed, married me, and had children with me. Our children would have been beautiful.

It's cold in my bedroom. I'm all alone and I know that when I go to bed and he won't be there, holding me and humming a lullaby into my ear. I'm all alone.

_Over in Killarney, many years ago,_

_My mother sang a song to me_

_In tones so sweet and low._

_Just a simple little ditty,_

_In her good old Irish way,_

_And I'd give the world if she could sing_

_That song to me this day._

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, too-ra-loo-ra-li,_

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry!_

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, too-ra-loo-ra-li,_

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby._

_Oft in dreams I wander, to that cot again,_

_I feel her arms a-huggin' me_

_As when she held me then._

_And I hear her voice a-hummin'_

_To me as in days of yore,_

_When she used to rock me fast asleep_

_Outside the cabin door._

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, too-ra-loo-ra-li,_

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush, now don't you cry!_

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, too-ra-loo-ra-li,_

_Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby._

I'll be graduating tomorrow. I know that nobody will be there, clapping just for me when I get my diploma. It'll just be myself. Mother and father won't care, but that's not a first. When did they care?

I hope they never find this. If they do and I am still living with them I want my last request to be that Carlisle knows I love him and that not one moment will go by without him crawling in and out of the holes in my vivid imagination.

Forever Carlisle's,

Esme Anne Platt


End file.
